Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~October 1984~

Bill Denbrough sat up in bed, folding a paper-boat for his younger brother, Georgie. It was a dark, gloomy day in Hawkins. Rain pounded down on the roof and pattered against the bedroom window. Georgie, who was still apprehensive about going out in such extreme weather, stood by the window, looking out every now and then as he drew picture of the fogged up glass.

“You sure I won’t get in trouble, Bill?” Georgie asked nervously.

“Don’t be a w-wuss,” Bill snapped. “I’d come with you if I weren’t-”

Bill paused for a second and let out a hearty cough.

“Dying,” he finished.

“You’re not dying,” Georgie sighed, shaking his head.

“You didn’t see the v-vomit coming out of my nose this morning?” Bill asked with a teasing grin.


“Thats disgusting,” Georgie remarked.

“Okay. Go get the wax,” said Bill. Georgie hesitated anxiously.

“In the cellar?” He asked.

“You want it to f-float, don’t you?” Bill frowned.

“Fine,” Georgie sighed, grabbing a walkie and leaving the room. Bill stayed in bed, continuing to work on the paper-boat, while Georgie ventured down to the dark cellar. It was dark down there, especially since the storm had caused all the electricity to go out. Georgie made his trip as quick as it could be and then raced back upstairs to Bill’s room, where he felt warm and safe. He stood beside his older brother, watching curiously as Bill lathered the paper-boat up with wax.

“There you go,” Bill smiled, handing Georgie the boat. “She’s all ready, Captain.”


“She?” Georgie frowned. “You always c-call boats she,” Bill explained.

“Oh,” Georgie smiled. “She. Thanks, Billy.” He gave Bill a big hug, before skipping out of the room, boat in hand. “See you later!”

Bill got up from his desk and walked over to his bedroom window to watch Georgie leave. Something wasn’t sitting well in his stomach about Georgie going out alone. He watched as a small figure in a yellow slicker run out onto the footpath in front of their house. It turned around, looked up at Bill and threw him a big wave.


“Be careful,” Bill said into his walkie. Georgie nodded to himself, placed his walkie in his pocket and put the boat in the gutter and began the chase after it as it float off. Bill looked on from his window, unaware of the fact that that would be the last time he saw his brother.

Chapter Text

~November 1984~

No less than a month after the tragic disappearance of Georgie Denbrough, Mike Wheeler-Tozier, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair and Will Byers once again found themselves playing D&D in the Wheeler-Tozier’s basement. They were lucky that night, as Mike’s polar opposite twin, Richie, was having a sleepover at his best friend, Stanley Uris’ house. Richie was an enigma, and the party had found it was easy to play when he wasn’t home, as he insisted on playing with them, and none of them particularly enjoyed that.

As usual, Mike was sat behind the large board, dramatically saying and acting out what was happening in the game.

“Something is coming,” he said darkly. “Something hungry for blood. A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in the darkness. It is almost here.”

“What is it?” Will gasped.

“What if it's the Demogorgon?” Dustin panicked. “Oh Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon.”

“It's not the Demogorgon,” Lucas sighed.

“An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!” Mike exclaimed.

“Troglodytes?” Dustin scoffed.

“Told ya!” Lucas smirked, causing giggles to echo through the basement.

“Wait a minute, did you hear that?” Mike frowned. “That... that sound? Boom... boom... boom! That didn't come from the troglodytes. No, that... That came from something else... The Demogorgon!”

He slammed down a small, plastic figurine on the table. The party collectively groaned. They had been preparing for this the entire campaign, but that didn’t make it any less startling, nor worrying when it happened.

“We're in deep shit,” Dustin panicked.

“Will, your action!” Mike yelled.

“I don't know!” Will exclaimed.

“Fireball him!” Lucas demanded.

“I'd have to roll a 13 or higher!” Will pointed out.

“Too risky,” Dustin sighed. “Cast a protection spell!”

“Don't be a pussy!” Lucas snapped. “Fireball him!”

“Cast Protection,” Dustin pressed.

“The Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering!” Mike yelled. “It stomps towards you! BOOM!”

“Fireball him!”

“Another stomp, boom!”

“Cast Protection.”

“He roars in anger!”

“Fireball!” Will yelled, rolling the dice and slamming them so hard down on the table that they rolled off and disappeared. “Oh, shit!”

The four boys all immediately got up, dropping down on the floor and searching in desperation for the missing dice, completely unaware of an irritated Karen Wheeler-Tozier, who had been calling Mike for the last five minutes.

“Mike!” She yelled, finally catching her sons attention, who looked up to see her standing at the top of the basement stairs, both hands on hips.

“Mom, we're in the middle of a campaign,” Mike complained.

“You mean the end?” She frowned. “Fifteen after.”

She disappeared from the top of the stairs, causing Mike to follow her in suit, desperate to finish the campaign.

“Mom, wait, just 20 more minutes!” Mike pleaded.

“It’s a school night, Michael,” Karen sighed. “I just put Holly to bed. You can finish next weekend.”

“But that'll ruin the flow!” Mike exclaimed.

“Michael-”

“I'm serious, Mom,” he sighed. “The campaign took two weeks to plan. How was I supposed to know it was gonna take ten hours?”

“You've been playing for ten hours?” Karen frowned. The look on her face was enough for Mike to give up on her and turn to his dad, Ted, who was in the living room, trying to sort out the tv.

“Dad, don't you think that 20 more-” Mike began, before getting cut off.

“I think you should listen to your mother,” Ted advised, slamming his hand against the top of the tv. “Dang dumb piece of junk.”

Meanwhile, back down in the basement, Will finally found his dice.

“Oh, I got it!” He gasped, holding up the dice. “Does the seven count?”

“It was a seven?” Lucas frowned. "Did mike see it?”

Will shook his head.

“Then it doesn't count,” Lucas concluded. The three of them packed up their things and began to move upstairs to the kitchen.

“Yo, hey, guys,” Dustin said, holding up an almost empty pizza box. “Does anyone want this?”

“No.”

The party left the house and out to the garage, where they had left their bikes that morning. Dustin had taken a quick detour up to Nancy, Mike and Richie’s older sister’s, room, to see if she wanted the last slice of pizza. However, he was soon met with a door in his face.

“There’s something wrong with your sister,” Dustin pointed out, as he and the others picked up their bikes and got ready to leave.

“What are you talking about?” Mike sighed.

“She's got a stick up her butt,” he explained.

“Yeah,” Lucas agreed. “It’s because she’s been dating that douche bag Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah, she’s been a real jerk,” Dustin nodded.

“She's has alway been a real jerk,” Mike shrugged.

“Uh-uh,” Dustin continued, getting on his bike. “She used to be cool. Like that time she dressed up as an elf for our Eldertree campaign.”

“Four years ago!” Mike exclaimed.

“Just sayin’,” Dustin called over his shoulder, as he rode off into the night.

“Later,” Lucas called, following closely behind Dustin. Will was about to leave too, when he stopped beside Mike.

“It was a seven,” said Will.

“What?”

“The roll,” he explained. “It was a seven. The Demogorgon. It got me.”

He said his goodbyes and rode off, unaware of the fate that would soon bestow him.

Chapter Text

Joyce Byers hurried around her house, searching desperately for her keys, which had sneakily slipped down the side of the couch the night before.
“Where are they?” She groaned, anxious about being late to work. She had never been late, and was not about to start now.
“Did you check the couch?” her eldest son, Jonathan, asked from the kitchen. The couch! Joyce sighed with relief when she felt the cold metal of her keys behind one of the cushions.
“Found them,” she said, holding up the keys in victory. “Where’s Will?”
“Sleeping, I guess,” Jonathan shrugged nonchalantly.
“You gotta make sure he’s up, Jonathan how many times?” Joyce sighed, walking back down the hall to Will’s room.
“I’m making breakfast,” Jonathan complained. His mom couldn’t expect him to do everything, right? Joyce walked into Will’s room, expecting to see her son still laying in bed with the covers over his face.
“Will Will, come on get up!” She said cheerily, her smile falling the moment she opened the door and didn’t see Will in bed. Panic filled Joyce’s chest. Where was Will? He had to be here? Where else could he be?
“He came home last night right?” Joyce asked Jonathan, the panic in her voice evident.
“He’s not in his room?” Jonathan frowned.
“He came home or not.”
“I don’t know,” Jonathan admitted.
“You don't know?” Joyce scoffed.
“I got back late, I was working,” he mumbled guiltily.
“You were working?” Joyce frowned.
“Eric asked if I could cover for him, I said yeah, I fig we could use the cash,” Jonathan tried to explain, despite knowing that his mother was beyond listening.
“We talked about this, I told you not to take shifts on nights I’m tending, I specifically told you,” Joyce snapped, walking over to the phone, which sat on the wall.
“He was over at Mike’s all day. I’m sure he just stayed over,” Jonathan shrugged.
“I can’t believe you,” she sighed, dialling in the number to the Wheeler-Tozier and holding the phone to her ear, her anxiety growing stronger and stronger as the phone dialled. She was only able to breathe when someone answered.
“Hello?”
“Karen it’s Joyce,” Joyce said, trying to sound as calm as she possibly could.
“Joyce, hi,” Karen said. There was a pause on the line and Joyce could hear voices in the background. Was that Will? It had to be? Joyce was filled with short-lived relief.
“I’m sorry on of those mornings,” Karen sighed.
“Was that Will I heard back there?” Joyce queried.
“Will?” Karen asked. “No, no just Mike.”
“He didn’t spend the night?” Joyce asked, the anxiety returning, and this time stronger.
“No,” Karen asked, concern filling her voice. “He, he left here a little after 8. He’s not home?”
“I was working late last night,” Joyce explained. “I’m sure he just left early for school. Thanks... thanks Karen.”
She hung up the phone before Karen could say anything else.

Beverly Marsh sat in the school bathroom in Hawkins Middle. She had been forced to find a quick hiding spot from Greta Keene, and was now perching on top of a toilet seat and smoking a cigarette. Her father hated when she smoked. Maybe that was why she did it so much. Unfortunately, the school wasn’t too fond of it either, and if she was caught again, there was a good chance she would be suspended. But Beverly couldn’t quite relax. Not yet. Not when she heard Greta Keene’s footsteps fill the bathroom. The footsteps got closer and closer, before eventually stopping outside her cubicle. This was followed by a loud bang on the door.
“Are you in there by yourself, Beaver-ly?” Greta said teasingly. “Or do you have half the guys in the school with you, huh, slut?”
Beverly quickly put out her cigarette on the wall and rolled her eyes. She hated the rumours almost as much as she hated Greta.
“I know you're in there, little shit,” Greta continued. “I can smell you. No wonder you don't have any friends.”
"Which is it, Gretta?” Bev retorted. “Am I a slut or a little shit? Make up your mind.”
“You're trash,” Greta concluded. Bev looked up just in time to see one of Greta’s friends standing over the stall with a big of wet trash. She quickly put her backpack over her head to protect herself from the trash as it was dumped on her.
“We just wanted to remind you.”
Beverly lowered her backpack, watching the wet rubbish slide off her backpack. She bit back any feelings of sadness or anger and flicked some remnants off of her bag.

Stanley Uris and Richie Wheeler-Tozier parked their bikes outside Hawkins Middle. They had spent the morning discussing their concern for Bill (which Stan thought was very unlike Richie), who once again, was not at school. Of course, neither of them expected him to be there. Their concern surrounded not having heard from their friend in several days. Of course, the pair new better than to disrupt the Denbrough household anymore by showing up unexpected and decided to simply call Bill that afternoon. As the pair walked around to the entrance, they heard several familiar voices fill the air through the excited chatter of middle schoolers.
“Do the arm thing.”
“Do it, freak!”
Dustin Henderson shrugged off his jacket and stretched his arms out. They crackled unpleasantly. Both Troy and James gagged and laughed mockingly at Dustin.
“Hey!” Richie yelled, stepping forward towards Troy and James.
“Richie, what the fuck are you doing,” Stan hissed, not wanting to have any confrontation. He already had enough to deal with Henry Bowers, then have the party’s bullies pick on him as well.
“What?” James glared.
“Nothing, just saying hey,” Richie muttered. The bullies shared a look, before walking away.
“Seriously, Richie,” Mike said in disgust.
“Yeah, like you could do better,” Richie retorted. “I see the way you hide from Bowers whenever he bullies me.”
Mike rolled his eyes and left with Dustin and Lucas, the three of them talking about how Dustin’s arm thing could be a superpower.

Chapter Text

Ben Hanscom hurried out the door to the back entrance of the school, hoping to avoid Henry Bowers and his gang as best as he could. Being the new kid was one thing, but being slightly larger than the others was a whole new fish to fry. He busied himself, holding an old school project with one hand, while trying to free his bike from the stands, all while New Kids On The Block was blaring in his ears. Due to his multitasking, he failed to notice Beverly Marsh, who was waiting patiently behind him on the stairs, wishing he would hurry up and move already. Finally, she decided to say something.

“You gonna let me go by, or is there a secret password or something?” She asked. Ben turned around, let out a surprised “oh” and gazed at her for a second, before apologising hastily and trying his best to move out of the way, knocking over his school project, which fell apart the moment it hit the ground.

“Sorry’s not…a password,” Beverly said, trailing off as she noticed the boy struggling, cringing a little as his bicycle fell over. But eventually, Ben pulled himself together and managed to fix his school project.

“Henry and his goons are over by the west entrance, so, you should be fine,” she assured him.

“Oh, I wasn’t-” Ben began.

“Everyone knows he’s looking for you,” she explained gently, offering him a small smile. Ben sighed in embarrassment, looking down at his feet. He had gained a small crush on Beverly ever since his first class with her. Social studies. There wasn’t a single thing about her that didn’t make his heart boom. Her curly red hair, the way she chewed on the end of the pencil and how she doodled little hearts on the bottom of her workbook.

“What you listening to?” Beverly asked, pulling the headphones off his head before he could stop her and placing them over her ears. A smile spread across her lips and Ben could feel his cheeks growing hotter and hotter by the second.

“New Kids On The Block,” she grinned, removing the headphones.

“I don’t even like them,” Ben tried. “I was just-”

“Wait, you’re the new kid, right?” Beverly asked, before faking a gasp of astonishment. “Now I get it.”
“There’s nothing to get,” Ben frowned.

“I’m just messing with you,” she smiled, placing the headphones on top of his head so they sat there like a halo. Ben awkwardly pulled them off his head, disregarding them and letting them fall to the floor.

“I’m Beverly Marsh.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Ben said, before hastily adding, “because we’re in the same class, social studies, and you were…I’m Ben, but pretty much everyone calls me-”

“The new kid,” Beverly nodded. “Well, Ben, there are worse things to be called.”

She smiled kindly at him and he almost beamed back.

“Stay cool, Ben from sosh class,” she grinned, giving him a small wave good bye and walking away across the field. “Hang tough, new kid on the block!”

“Please don’t go, girl!” Ben yelled after her, growing embarrassed when she didn’t hear him. “That’s another…New Kids On The…Block…Song.”
With a sigh, Ben began to wheel his bike away, completely forgetting about his headphones which dragged along on the ground behind him.